


broken bottles

by grab_n_growl



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, NSFW, Porn, Praise, Smut, Some Spanish, a little plot, desperate javier is my favorite javier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 10:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grab_n_growl/pseuds/grab_n_growl
Summary: How could he cheer up? His teeth had glinted in the moonlight when he'd rounded on the shorter man, spitting the question like a petulant child.He'd been confronted with Javier's face, far closer than he'd remembered him being. The man had cocked his head like a coyote seizing up a particularly energetic rabbit, the dark of his eyes far more encompassing, far more feeling, than John had last seen them by the campfire. It was as though even out here, with only the two of them beside the blue-soaked shore, the flames had remained in the musician's gaze and he'd captured them, held them like the burning tip of a match. Except the stick didn't seem to be burning out in Javier, no. Instead, it seemed to flare at John's reaction, his smile far too sharp to be truly kind, as he held up four bottles of whiskey captured in the gaps of his fingers. A promise. A question.





	broken bottles

The sound of his bottle shattering with solid clatter on the rocks is both a large, flourishing affair, and something rustic and utterly familiar and home. And that's not what he expected, not by a long shot. To be taken up with such a gust of emotion- was it the whiskey? It must be the whiskey. After all, that's what they'd been wallowing in before ending up _here_ , five feet from the water of the lake with the gentle lapping of the trickling waves keeping pace with their tongues twined up into each other's mouths.

How _did_ they get here, anyway? As much as he liked to spit and snarl and sneer whenever Arthur delved beneath his skin to poke and prod at wounds and scars both physical and mental of how he's _not a good thinker_ , John can't find it in himself to deny that simple fact right now. Because this... this wasn't well-thought, not by a long shot. Then again, he didn't really know what _good plans_ looked like nowadays. Not with Jack having been stolen from their grasp when their backs were turned for a mere _moment_. Fuck if he knew where that kid was, but _God_ , it permeated his entire being. The worry, the _fear_ , something he'd never felt in such a way before. Maybe that's what had driven him here, now, with gravel and pebble digging into the knobs of his joints, the wiry mass of the muscles up his back, as Javier does not let him come up for breath once. No, there are dark hands and darker eyes on him, devouring him, and he feels both poised for a fight and desperate to think of _something else_ other than the anxieties and terrors that plagued his mind. To let the press of fingers into the shivering skin of his abdomen, the teeth pressing bruises into his lips, take him away from all of the muddied, vile thoughts he had.

They'd been getting worse since they'd come down here at Clemens Point, reaching for any kind of escape from the Pinkertons breathing down their necks, the threat of nooses a' plenty prepared just for them. John had watched them hang a man, some poor fool of a thief, in Valentine just before they'd shot the place clean to shit. Even now he can still hear the horrified, hiccuping cries of the maiden he was leaving behind, collapsed in the dirt. Her son at her flank was desperate to console the inconsolable, his father seconds from his neck breaking calling out to him to _be good, for your mother. I love you both._ John wasn't sure what it was, but he'd stayed. He'd _watched_ as the sheriff snapped the gears into motion, the floor falling out beneath the man's feet, and if John strained his ears he could hear the tell-tale _snap_.

And the man was left.

_~~Hanging.~~ _

With no one but the dispersing crowd, John, and the wife and son to remember him by.

It had made him think. Wonder if Abigail would ever look like that, _would_ she look like that, if he were sent to be hanged. Probably not, he'd mused gloomily. No, she'd scream her fury to the skies and ream him harder than any death sentence on the gallows itself, cursing him to Hell and back, and dragging what was left of his existence through the mud. She would not mourn him. It would merely be just another loss, and another example of how the gang _wasn't doing as well as it used to be_. As it preached to be doing. He couldn't escape the sounds of it all, the pressure, and as such it made him _think_. So much so Arthur had managed a quick jab before he could haul up his defenses again-

 

" I can hear ya' thinkin' from here, Johnny-boy. Best leave the real plannin' to those with a brain. "

 

While the bite is sharp, it does not draw blood, and as those blue eyes shimmer in mirth in response to the hard flint of a gaze John turned on him, it all feels like a gentle nudge. It is Arthur's way, brother to brother, of attempting to guide John out of the slums of his head.

Arthur hadn't said anything like that to him in a while. Not since Jack had been kidnapped. No, his blows had softened now, and part of John wishes so desperately to be struck by them again. Maybe it would help ground him. In a way that was different than this. His fingers entangled into Javier's hair, rough in the way he'd ripped the band from the inky darkness to allow the strands to fall in a short veil across the weathered skin. Can feel the tips of the man's hair tickle the ripped and ragged flesh on the right side of his face just as worn hands press into the crease of his jaw, forcing his mouth open to allow Javier to continue with... whatever journey this was. There were callouses on the tips of his fingers, John noted. Told of his life- told of his love for music, for his guitar he played so lovingly almost every night. They'd fallen into a rhythm of sorts, a real one now, and for a moment John has a fear that neither one of them are a drunk as they'd first been when they'd stumbled just outside of camp for some peace and quiet. Well, it was mostly John moving to sulk, and Javier being far too loose-lipped from the mass quantities of alcohol he'd been downing that night, pursuing him with delicate jests with rolls of his tongue about how he needed to _cheer up, okay?_

_How could he cheer up?_ His teeth had glinted in the moonlight when he'd rounded on the shorter man, spitting the question like a petulant child.

He'd been confronted with Javier's face, far closer than he'd remembered him being. The man had cocked his head like a coyote seizing up a particularly energetic rabbit, the dark of his eyes far more encompassing, far more _feeling_ , than John had last seen them by the campfire. It was as though even out here, with only the two of them beside the blue-soaked shore, the flames had remained in the musician's gaze and he'd captured them, held them like the burning tip of a match. Except the stick didn't seem to be burning out in Javier, no. Instead, it seemed to _flare_ at John's reaction, his smile far too sharp to be truly kind, as he held up four bottles of whiskey captured in the gaps of his fingers. A promise. A _question._

One John answered with a rough sniff, turning his cheek to spit into the dirt, before roughly snapping one of the bottles out of Javier's hands. God, he was already _drunk, this wasn't a good idea_. But he wanted more. Wanted to completely _drown himself_ in something other than Abigail's cries. He'd done his best to comfort her back in his tent when he'd come across her, broken down and sobbing heavily into Karen's arms. Had a pair of twisted lips sent his way, a warning to be gentle in the shadow of Karen's eye, before she'd gently let the grieving mother to his tent. He'd sat with her, when he could contain the panicked fidgeting in his chest and in his head into being just a bunch of feathery birds stuck into a cage. Wound his arms around her, let her pour out what she needed to into his chest. It had been a long time since they'd touched like that. Touched at _all,_ actually. It quickly became far too much for John, the wild animal that he was, and when he was certain that Abigail had cried herself fully to a restless, fitful slumber, he'd secured the flap of his tent and let her have her peace asleep in his cot.

And he had fled. Not in the way he'd had before, not exactly. His physical body remained here, in camp. But his mind? Even he didn't know where it was going, where it was leading, where it wanted him to go. So he deigned not to confront it at all. Why should he? _Fuck thinking_. It was more trouble than it was worth, anyway. And Javier had seemed to agree from where he'd sat cross-legged beside the logs surrounding their main campfire, plucking delicately at the strings of his guitar. An aimless tune, one that shifted back and forth, as the man seemed to be weighing his options of what exactly he wanted to play tonight. Had looked up when John approached, whiskey in-hand, and even in the darkness, the vermillion glow glinted off the curl of his mustache as he sent a wry smile.

_Rough night?_ Javier had asked. Unlike with Arthur, John couldn't fully place that tone of voice into being one of prodding him into an argument, or being genuinely curious. As long as they'd been in the gang together, he'd never seemed to get a handle on exactly _who Javier was_. Sure, he'd seen the man shoot. Gut. Fillet. Break bones. Snap fingers. Scalp. Pull teeth. Dismember. He'd heard him sing, painfully beautiful and forlorn as he curled song with his tongue in his mother language, and there was something that ached in every note that almost made one embarrassed to be listening. Like it was a tender, sorrowful gift Javier was giving. He'd seen Javier cry. Smile. Laugh. Hug. Comfort. _Save_. And yet, even with all that, John felt like he merely had fragments in pieces of the man. Things that seemed reasonable on their own, normal by all accounts when given the gang's savage lifestyle, but when he attempted to put them together... well, he was no artist like Arthur. No painter by any means. All he saw was some shattered mirror in front of him and he didn't know if Javier was so much like him that his own mind was attempting to fool himself, or if Javier really just _was like that._

_Yeah. Losin' Jack's been hard on Abigail._

_Mm. Been hard on all of us, brother. I'm sorry._

_Sorry?_ The word had caught John so off-guard he'd nearly choked on the swigs of whiskey he'd been taking, desperately clawing for that feeling of liquid magma and smoke in his stomach to push out his own thoughts. When he studied Javier now, all he saw was an expression both passive and alive, fingers having paused from their caressing of the guitar strings so he could fully focus his gaze on John. There is an unreadable, but nonetheless _palpable_ , of undercurrent emotion in the silence that stretched between them, eyes caught up in one another. It lasts only a moment before John simply hangs his head like an exhausted hound, nursing his second bottle of the night already with plenty more to come, and shrugs lightly. Scratches at the coils of stubble at his throat, fingers aimlessly tracing the rivulets scoured into the side of his cheek, along his jaw. He didn't realize that Javier had yet to stop staring at him, watching him, like he was a tricky piece of sheet music that he was trying to puzzle out. After a second, the man had leaned over the smooth wood of his guitar and reached a hand out and beckoned for a bottle from the crate nearby.

And the two got to work polishing. Javier had begun to play something and carried it with a lilting softness in his voice, some short piece of music that John was hardly focused enough to even try to understand. All he heard was the other man's voice tremoring and something about it, hearing the shivers, made something in John's heart throb. _Hurt._ One piece led into the next and it quickly became apparent they both were becoming more alcohol than blood, minutes seeming like hours and hours seeming like minutes. Others had come by. Arthur had clapped a paw over the back of John's head, startling stars into the younger's eyes, as he cautioned with a hint of true concern about not drinking too much. _Too much?_ No, there was never _enough_. Bill and Hosea had joined them for a bit, Lenny gently blowing smoke rings into the midnight air. Just beyond the fire's tongue, John could make out the form of Tilly and Karen entering his tent, likely checking on the woman he'd left there.

He'd chugged an entire bottle of whiskey in that moment and was heaving for breath by the time he'd finished his fit of passion, enough Hosea had steadied a familiar, fatherly hand between his shoulder blades and waited with him for the world to stop spinning. It stung. He felt like a child and an old man at the same time. Felt an untamed wolf corralled into a corner. He couldn't do this. Not right now. So, he'd left. Stumbled in a half-hearted stalk out from the ring, away from the cloying warmth of the fire, and peddled across the much cooler grass away. Felt like the entire world was rocking before him but he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. He wasn't getting enough breath, _he couldn't breathe here_ , not right now. Sought sanctuary by following the shoreline and rocks, picking across the edge of the sluggish-moving water. With some sense of amusement bubbling in his throat, John had mused that the liquid was quite the representation of himself at the moment-

He'd come here for _clarity_. Was this clarity? Maybe, maybe not. When Javier had climbed up one of the larger rocks, the line of his figure pressed against John's flank, and settled in beside him. Together, they finished the last of the whiskey, away from everyone else. Dissolved into laughter over shit neither one could comprehend, or had the mind to understand anymore. Javier was close enough that John could feel every breath he took, blue denim of his jacket a familiar vision, though not familiar in its placement pressed as close as possible to John's duster. Was it hot, or was it just him? No, that's not the saying- _is it hot out here? No, that's not it-_

John hadn't realized he'd been musing aloud until Javier had turned amused, sparkling eyes upon him and remarked that _he sounded good like this_. Like how? Drunk as fuck? His response had wrung another chuckle, deep and throaty, from the other man as he shook his head. A silence had settled again after that, though not wholly uncomfortable. Just... anticipative. Like something else was meant to be filling the quiet at that moment. It hadn't been long before it was broken with Javier's hand, his hand, had placed itself in the space where Hosea's had been. A brisk _pat-pat_ , as he murmured,

_We'll get him back- Jack. We will find him and bring him home, I promise._

Maybe it was something in his tone of voice, but John was grasping his last bottle like a lifeline as he turned his head to find that Javier was looking right back at him.

_Beat._

**_Beat._ **

~~_**Beat.** _ ~~

His heart thrummed a steady baseline like the low notes on Javier's guitar, and then-

He didn't know which of them had moved in first, but suddenly, his mouth was on Javier's and neither one was pulling away. Pressing _closer_ , in fact. John could smell the smoke of a recent cigarette cloying at the other man's throat, sweat-musk like they all smelled like nowadays. But it wasn't bad, no. There was something in it that was incredibly unique to _him_. It was a shimmering moment, suspended in time as they both had paused at the first touch, as though afraid the other would strike with thorns rather than petals. But that wasn't the case, for either of them. Javier tilted his head, twisted it _just so_ to get his lips a better leverage, and John had lost the grip on his bottle in favor of threading his fingers into the other's collar. Off the bottle had gone, shattering beneath them, and it was like the sound of a gunshot at the beginning of a race. The two of them a heady pair of racehorses, but there was no finish line in sight. No, this was all adrenaline, hearts thudding and blood rushing as they melted together.

Javier had given him the gentlest of shoves and now here he was, collapsed on the ground with the man between his legs, long limbs tangled together as they fought over who could taste who more. With his hair pulled free, Javier seemed much more invigorated than before, like doing that was picking apart a piece of that immaculately crafted image of togetherness he'd fostered over the years. A far cry from the kid who'd been caught stealing chickens, eh? Now the tightly-coiled ball of thread was being unwound, let loose, between the two of them. When a tongue pressed against his lips, John finds it difficult to push it away. Abigail had never done that to him- oh, when fingers kept his jaw open, he had no defense to deny it. It's uncomfortably slick, but it takes a concerningly _small_ amount of time for John to get used to it. To be able to keep his own mouth ajar to _allow it_ , letting Javier _sink, sink into him._

When he pulled back, the musician looked wild in a way John hadn't seen in a long time. Starts shifting, casting the denim off his own shoulders, loosening the collar of his button-down, and _growls_ when John worms a hand into his belt and tugs. Tugs Javier back down into his embrace, trading bruising kisses and laps of tongue, and suddenly there are teeth pressed against his throat. John freezes in place, stock-stiff and briefly enraptured by the memory of the hanging man- the image remains when the glint of the moon hits _just right_ and he can see the long, thin slice of a scar across Javier's own throat. The other man had not paused at the reaction, but his teeth had softened their grasp, and instead trailed delicately down the veins, mouthing at the cartilage of John's neck, pressing a kiss into the hollow between his collarbones and seems quite pleased at the soft _gasp_ he'd wrung from John's lips. And John tried not to think, tried _terribly hard_ not to, but the anxieties and worries are beginning to shuffle back into his conscious.

What would become of them after this? Because of _this?_

There is a moment where he catches just enough courage to get his stupid mouth moving to speak but Javier cuts it off with a gentle bite on the juncture of his shoulder and throat, deft fingers thumbing open his vest with one hand, sliding up his abdomen with the other. He's left paralyzed again for a moment before he was up, _up, pushing up_ , dislodging Javier from his kingly perch and shoving him to the ground. The fact that the man let him, let him press him into the dirt, was a true testimony to how far both of them were gone. Lost in each other. John, forever a feral, returns the kisses with bites much sharper than Javier's had been, trailing down the dark throat and reveling in the husky groan he pulled up from it. Mouths softly against the line of the scar, feels a whine _shiver_ at the back of Javier's throat, and John is nearly bowled over with the weight of the fact that the other man was _letting him do this_. Blown away by the fact he'd let _Javier_ do this to him. Christ's sake, they really were fucked up, weren't they?

They were losing clothes as fast as they were losing breath at that point, Javier practically ripping John's duster and vest off while the other worked at all the delicate buttons of his own until they both got so fed-up, pent-up, that they were tossing shirts off half-undone. The touch of skin-on-skin was in equal parts terrifying and gratifying, feeling the slide of Javier's burning palms up his flanks, smoothing over his abdomen, rubbing softly at his nipples while John is helpless aside from moaning into his mouth. But he is not one to be outdone, no. His nails scratch up the velvet skin beneath him, relishes in the quiet gasp, the softly-muttered _fuck, John-_ as his hands wrap softly 'round Javier's throat. John holds him there, putting hardly any pressure, and the two kiss each other senseless.

How long did they stay like that? John couldn't tell. He'd lost all sense of time, of practicality, of _everything_. But it was all brought back with a crash when Javier's wandering hands became a little _less aimless_ , dragging over his belt, and then cupping between his legs with a firm squeeze. It's enough to have John freezing again, suspended, while Javier took advantage and lurched up from being pressed flat on the ground, tongue shoving hard into John's mouth as his fingers work him through his jeans, roughly stoking the flames of whiskey and passion that had taken root in the pits of their stomachs. John can't stop the moan that filters out, Javier echoing it back with a breathless laugh when John's own hands wander down to the other's pants, pressing inexperienced but just as hard down into Javier's cock. He can feel the imprint of it and balefully realizes they're both far harder than he expected them to be, but Javier doesn't seem to mind. No, if anything, he seems utterly involved.

... Maybe, this was something more, for both of them. And the alcohol had merely pushed them along. What did he know? _Not a whole lot_ , John had mused in that second.

Regardless, whatever happened from then on it, he vowed that they could at least have this. This one, single moment together with a worry, without a care. Without thinking of the weights of their responsibilities that lay on their shoulders in camp. No, out here, right now, they were free to do whatever they wished. And Javier seemed hell-bent on making the most of their time as he swiftly undid John's jeans, pulled them down unceremoniously, and bit John's lip just as his fingers curled around his cock. It pulled a startled noise from somewhere in the back of the man's throat, choking himself momentarily as those fingers moved up and down, _up and down_ , and feels Javier tease at his tip with slow-moving circles of a thumb. When a nail digs into his slit, he _whimpers_ , and Javier gasps an elated smile into his mouth, licking deep against his teeth as his other hand holds John's thigh in place between his own, keeping him from fleeing. From _running._

Knowing John, that wasn't a far-fetched option for him.

Fuck, it feels like pure ember is being etched into his skin, and Javier's grip is sturdy and rough, flicking his wrist just enough to wring quite exhales from John's throat. His fingers fumble, down, down into Javier, and the other man raises his hips to meet his hands as John curls around him beneath his pants, skin-against-skin. They're both panting into each other's mouths, more tongue than lips in their kisses, before Javier seems to break a bit in his hands. Shudders, shivers in a way John has never seen before, and its making his eyes fog up and his head fill with fuzz.

This just seemed to be stoking the flames instead of extinguishing them, pushing both to frustrating heights without a sense of release. Feeding off each other, they go from soft to aggressive and back again, pulling at their skins, muscles, anything they can reach on the other. And John, forever the one with _bright ideas_ , decided this wasn't enough. _It wasn't enough._ Batting at Javier's hands, he manages to hold on to the very little bit of courage he had left intact from the whiskey and pushed his thighs beneath Javier's, pulls them both fully from their pants, and _presses_. Pressed them together, fingers tangled, and rocks. _Back and forth, back and forth_ , in jerky thrusts that has Javier branding bruises through his clothes against his thighs, chest heaving with every breath.

_Back and forth._

**_Back and forth._ **

 

" John, lay back- "

 

Javier's hands are already pressing on him, tossing him backwards, and once more he's the one meek and small beneath the other. It's a dizzying feeling when the man descends on him, devouring him, taking the same position they'd just been in. His movements are much fiercer, that much _harder_ , and John is leaking over his own stomach and he's muttering his groans softly into whatever skin of Javier's he's pressed against in the moment. Pressing kisses along Javier's throat, his collarbones- feels fingers curl into the back of his neck and _pull back_. He's attacked immediately with bites along the curve of his neck, nails like claws in his hair, and he is so, so aware of how loud their gasps sound.

He's burning, _burning, and it's not enough-_

 

" Javier... _fuck, Javier_ \- I- "

 

The movements pause and between them settles a question, heady and heavy, as Javier pulls back to face him. Foreheads resting together, they share sharp breaths as dark eyes meet darker, watching. Looking for something that would tell that the other doesn't want this anymore. Neither finds anything of the kind in the other,

 

" You want to? You trust me? "

 

The question has John rolling his head back, eyes closing as he tries to calm his breath enough to speak with any kind of proper structure. He feels his own heart in his chest, throbbing as painfully as his cock still pressed hard against Javier's, and tries to think about _not thinking_. He'll chase himself away if he does, he knows he will. Fuck, where is his usual thoughtlessness when he needs it? A traitor to himself. But his body is thrumming with energy that he desperately needs to release- can feel it in Javier too, hovering over him with his hands planted on either side of John's head, staring him down. The answer is simple, but saying it is so, _so hard_ ,

 

" Yeah. I do. "

 

He's barely finished talking before Javier is in his mouth again, teeth softened, but nonetheless present. John winds his hands around the other's back and _digs in_ , long lines down his spine and huffing at the bodily shudder that Javier gives him, jostling their pressed cocks in a way that has both choking on whimpers. Lips leave his and travel down, down, and John has to throw a hand over his eyes as Javier sucks into his chest, tongue and thumbs toying at his nipples in a way that had his breath hitching in his chest. He's not stopping, _he's not stopping_ , and before John can grasp his hair and pull him away, Javier's mouth is descending on his cock without a sense of bashfulness. He can feel his heart stop in his chest as he manages to bite out Javier's name, hips rising from the ground as the other hollows his cheeks and _sucks_. A moan tears almost painfully from John's throat, gasping openly into the skin of his own forearm he'd pressed against his mouth to try to stifle himself.

 

Abigail had never done anything like _this_ for him.

 

He finds he much more enjoys the feel of Javier's larger, bigger, _masculinely delicate_ hands splayed on his stomach than hers. The thought leaves him winded and he gives himself a raincheck that he needs to revisit this concept in himself later. Fuck, it's a lot, _this is a lot_ , and Javier's nails digging into the thin skin of his hipbones just has his hips jerking uselessly, desperate for more. Javier pulls off of him after a moment, gasping and panting, and he slaves his tongue over John's tip and huffs a moan of his own at the soft noise the man beneath him makes. Through the fog of his head, John hears him saying something, he can hardly make it out until he blinks some of the fog away and listens-

 

" Joder, déjame, déjame tenerte. _Por favor_. Permítame. John, **_please_** \- "

 

Javier's voice is this growling, low thing, suave velvet soothing off his tongue and John's fingers are pressing into his forearms, hauling him up until they're tangled again, and kisses him senseless. He'd never heard the other like this before, voice catching with his Spanish pleading, desperation John had never heard from him spilling from his lips without care. Javier is breathing heavily against his face as John's fingers push his hair back for him, curling around the scruff of his neck as the thin, wild animal beneath him murmurs softly,

 

" Don't know _what_ you were sayin', but yes. Just... _yeah_. "

 

It feels like a fight. Colliding with each other, bites and kisses and tongue, rolling against the graveled dirt and sand. Javier jerks back quickly, hands ripping into John's pants, and yanks them off with all the finesse a very drunk and very erect man could muster at that moment,

 

" Better not throw those in the water. "

 

John grumbled and the mere sound of his voice seemed to have Javier in a tizzy, mouth falling open as John's fingers gently stroke his lips. With a shuffle, his hands wrap around John's cock again, palm grinding hard into the curve of it and watching mirthfully as his partner fell back heavily against the ground, momentarily immobilized. His other hand is shuffling into his coat pocket, long discarded on the ground, and John can't see exactly what he's doing. Suddenly Javier's lips are on him again and he accepts it with equal fervor, teeth sinking into the musician's bottom lip just to hear him gasp weakly, and he can just feel the other's fingers skimming up the inner length of his bared thighs. Feels thumbs press into the tendon and ligament so he reflexively spreads them wider, mildly taken off-guard when they grasp beneath and pull. John's at a scramble for a moment, his world shifting as Javier forces his back to curve against the ground as his legs are thrown up and around the top of Javier's hips.

Another moment of suspension, of looking at _one another._

This kiss is softer, full of promise and wonder. And John can't hold back the stutter in his throat, the wide opening of his eyes, as something slick-coated teasing between his legs. Rubs against his balls, kneading gently, before traveling lower. Javier's not letting him break away from the kiss, head twisting this way and that until he behaves and remains still, feeling his breath coming in short pants as he realizes _they're fingers. Javier's fingers_, coated in something, rubbing back and forth across his hole. It's an entirely new sensation that John has no idea what to do with, but vaguely, wonders if this is what women like Abigail feel like when this happens.

It can't be all that different, right?

... Hey, wait, how did _he_ end up being the one underneath?

Before he can manage to protest, Javier allows the tip of his middle finger press forward, against the muscle's resistance, and John stiffens like he's been shot as he actually feels it breach him. The other man is breathing words against his mouth, praise of some kind that John can hardly make out. He can't make out much of anything when all he can feel is the slide of the rest of the thin finger delicately sinking deep into his body. Hovering quiet, _a pause_ , before its moving, moving. Just a slow back and forth motion, coaxing the tight ring of muscle to relax itself, to bend to Javier's will. Honestly, John is fucking thankful that the other seems to know what he's doing, because at the moment he himself is tongue-tied and it takes all of his focus just to breathe,

 

" A little _tense_ , huh, John? "

 

There is a teasing bite to those words brushing against his lips, prompting John to curl his lip and bare his teeth with a quiet snarl. Flint sparked in his eye and it only seemed to prompt Javier further, igniting some of the fiery head butting the two had once had when the musician had first joined the gang. Had first tagged on the van der Linde name to himself. It had been when Dutch had come back from his stealing spree, tagged by a boy that very much did not look like the chicken the charismatic leader had said he'd been going out to find. John and Javier were close in age and despite the fact the man could hardly speak a word of English, the feral son knew how to meet him halfway with wrestling and barely-understood scoffs at one another. Barks in different languages, bites with the press of a knife to skin or the threat of a fist raised. Rough hands surprisingly gentle when patching wounds. Quiet in the dark when they downed bottle after bottle and found out Javier could play the guitar. Quick to jump to one another's defense when someone else in the gang saw it fit to put one of them down. Fishing trips that ended in them both wrestling in the water, hell-bent on soaking each other. And eventually, it turned softer. Kept that undercurrent of passion, but gentler. _More understanding_ , because they understood each other over blood first.

They'd done it all backwards, hadn't they?

Whatever reverie John had, or wanted to have, he couldn't keep track of it now. Not with a second finger prodding into him, this time accompanied with an unpleasant burn that had his teeth digging unkindly into Javier's tongue in his mouth, hissing softly. The other hardly seemed phased aside from a quiet exhale, rasping his lips over the scars ripped through John's face, tracing them with the dark of his hair brushing along their cheeks,

 

" Relax, relax. "

 

It's as soothing as it's going to get at this point, with men like them. After John's spine unwinds a bit, those fingers start to pulse, start to twist, and curl and pull back in a way that drags them hard against his walls, catching on his rim. He winces both out of pain and pleasure and Javier is quick to devour any shift of expression he gives. It's almost morbidly obsessive, the way the other watches his face, but whether he likes it or not, John can't get away now. Effectively pinned by Javier's forearm braced over the expanse of his hips and lower abdomen, keeping him still, as his other hand begins to work. Stretching, coiling, and it's winding him up more than John wants to admit.

There are _stars, stars behind his lids_ , when Javier tweaks his fingers just right. John's body jerks up and off the ground, muscles trembling along his lean thighs as a ripple current of pleasure spikes him hard and sudden and unexpected. He can hardly manage a sound at the feeling, hearing the breathless moan Javier emitted in echoing reaction. John is heaving in every way and his fingers twist into claws, raking down the length of Javier's shoulders and hauls him close, growling into the skin of his throat as he sucks a dark purple bruise into the smaller's throat,

 

" Javier, hurry the **_fuck up_**. "

 

A chuckle purrs above him, a now far-familiar voice ruffling the top of his head,

 

" Of course, _princess_. "

 

It prompts a rather savage sinking of teeth into the meat of his muscle cap atop his shoulder and the thrill, _the pain_ , has Javier's wrist snapping up as his fingers press as hard as he can into John's prostate. The man beneath him cords impossibly tight, mouth falling open and soundless as he's kept on the edge of pain and pure pleasure. It's a good look on him, one Javier loves seeing now that he's discovered it. And what else could he find now? What other parts of John could he unravel like this?

Fuck, he sure wanted to find out.

He was going to.

It's a flurry of passion and clumsy, stumbling hands before Javier is just as bare as John is. The two lock eyes for a moment, heavy-lidded and panting, before they're clasping together, curled like snakes. There are hot palms locked around the bottom of his calves, tensed and sinking in his flesh and skin, pulling him up. Up until his thighs rest on the other man's, cocks brushing together again in a way that has them both shivering. The thread between them pulls taunt, tight, as Javier shifts and grasped a hand around the base of himself, pulling his hips back _just enough_ to allow himself a downward stroking movement. The tip of him leaking against the soft skin, leaning down to capture John's lips in a feverish kiss as he tenses the muscles in his legs, keeps himself steady, and _sinks_. John's head fall back, hair falling around him as he bares his neck, eyes shut tight and fingernails curled into Javier's hips that he can reach. Fuck, _fuck_ , it's impossible to describe the feeling of becoming full. Fuller than his body has ever felt.

Javier is shaking in his arms and despite all his bravado of a confident personality, both he and John were shivering with even the most delicate of movements that shift them. The man leans back and the two grasp one another's forearms, keeping each other as close as possible while still allowing the needed pushes and pulls. It feels like fire whiskey has been poured into their veins, equally agonizing as it is freeing. Wonderful as well as terrible. Neither one cared.

John was too busy trying to hold himself back, from letting the moans he wishes to let slip from actually doing that. No, he can't- _he can't-_ this has already been too much. If he has to contend not only with his own pains in his head, but the idea of Javier hearing him moaning like some heat-strung bitch, he'd likely descend further into madness than he already is. But the other is pushing, _pushing_. Even thrusts, slow and steady, allowing the tip of himself to press mercilessly into John's prostate and it's so much, _too much_. For a moment, he wonders if they've burned all the alcohol out of their systems at this point. It's just them now. The real them. The idea, the concept, the truth makes him want to hide like a wounded creature, throwing both of his arms over his head so it covers his face in two parallel lines. Javier isn't having it. Isn't letting him flee. Calloused hands swat his arms away, wind into his hair again, pulling his head back to mouth at his neck, pressing a steady stream of kisses. Then Javier cocks his hips back, curls his body just so, and gives a hard thrust into John's body and he _can't hold it back-_

He rumbles out a choked moan, whining high and heady in his throat, and Javier slows and _pauses_ just briefly so John can feel his soft, elated breaths against his throat, whining brokenly,

 

" _Yes_ , John, **_yes_** , just like that, there you go. "

 

The praise only makes it worse, especially when Javier kicks into gear again and slams up and in, relentlessly moving. John digs his nails into the other's thighs, drags down to his knees, and privately relishes the equally-as-torn moan that bubbles from the Javier's throat at the feeling. Falling into each other, again and again, and it is maddening, _it's so much to handle_ -

Warmth is pooling in his stomach far faster than the whiskey had, pulling taunt in his stomach, and he can see the same in the winded coil of Javier's abdomen where it's pressed against John's erection. Teeth and lips together, they kiss and bite again and again, and more moans tumble openly out of his mouth when fingers palm his ass and squeeze hard, pulling him further apart. It lets Javier settle just that little bit deeper and John is keening, spine arching against his duster, and Javier is muttering quiet praise into the dip of his collarbone,

 

" Si, si, _buen chico_. "

 

They're close, so close, and John needs it. Is _desperate_ for it, for that final release. And, more than anything, he wants that for _Javier_. For his fellow gang member, for his comrade, for his brother, for his close friend. Wants him to attain it _from him_ , from his body, and the possessive flames in his chest grow into fireworks. He manages to get his hands up and around Javier's neck, squeezing just enough to feel the other's heartbeat throbbing and the stuttering breath, before John hauls the man an inch from his face. A tongue presses against Javier's lips, into them, and he rests his weight on his arms as his thrusts jerk at the feeling of John delving into him and moans softly. It's hardly a kiss before he's being pulled back, forced to look into the flushed, hazy face of the man he'd been with for so many years. They stare, hard-pressed, at one another before John is biting through his teeth,

 

" Javier... **_fuck me_** \- I- _mean it_. "

 

It's all Javier needs to hear. He doesn't thrust, he _wrenches_ John back onto his cock, reveling in the broken moans and groans he's able to splinter from him. Hands twisted into claws in the dips and curves of the thin, boney hips beneath his hands, find purchase and hold fast and tight. Then he's really moving, so hard John can feel the press of the rocks even through the blanket they'd fastened from his coat as he's slammed into again and again and again. If earlier was _devouring_ , this was absolutely decimating. Every one of John's defenses are beaten and tossed away until all that's left is him, keening and groaning and gasping with every breath he can take in, rubbing against the ground and letting Javier take and _take and take_ , _whatever he wants_. Whatever he needs. And this isn't lost on Javier. Hands run up and down appreciatively over John's skin, everywhere and anywhere, pulling and tugging at him in all the sensitive places they'd discovered together. And he's just as debauched, if not more so, in his growling and gasping vocalizations, Spanish and English spilling nonsense over his lips as he stares at John's jerking, writhing form,

 

" _Dios_ , sí, eres tan bueno... **_Fuck_** , eres un buen chico... He querido esto durante tanto tiempo... I need- Dios, eso es bueno. Hermoso. **_Mi hermoso animal_**. Sí, sí, perfecto, sí- yes- _John- yes- like that_... "

 

Every spilled word pushes them both higher, higher, until it's like they're floating on air. There is nothing in existence except for them. Just the two of them, here, right now. And then they're crashing back down, at least John is, when a calloused hand wraps hard and sure around his cock. Javier twists the length appreciatively, far past the idea of teasing, and instead curling his hand into a fist and shifting in the fast tempo alongside his powerful thrusts into John's body. It's almost enough to have John in tears, choking out noises on every exhale, and Javier can't help his own groans to see the other like this. For him. Only for him. Abigail would never get to see John like this, never, and the thought pulls a cruel smile over his lips.

Only him. _Only him._

It would've been a surprise if Javier wasn't drinking him in so closely. When John's eyes suddenly blew wide and focused on him, mouth opening swollen and trembling, and Javier manages to sink one of his thumbs into that hot slickness before the man's face twitches, eyes pinching shut again, and he tosses his head back with a high-whimpering moan. Spills over Javier's hands, thick ropes up his abdomen, and it has them both shaking with the intensity of it. He has to pull out, _he has to- or else-_

John's hands are in his hair, still shaking with the force of his orgasm, and pulling him so his forehead rests against the other's collarbone. Steadies him on his chest, words whispered into the side of his head as thighs cord tightly around his hips,

 

" Come on, Javi. _Come on_ \- "

 

The man in question groans, shaking violently, before he hauls John's legs over his shoulders and doesn't stop even for the hissed wheeze in response. He can feel it, can still feel John's abdomen pulsing, he's clenching so _fucking tight-_

 

" John, John, Jo-o-ohn- joder, _joder, joder_ , mi hermosa criatura, **_I can't_** \- "

 

His stomach throbs without his control, leaving bruises on John's skin where his fingers are clenched tight into the skin he finds he can't let go of, and comes. Javier's shivering with it, his strong forte shattering into a million pieces with his desperate whine and the man beneath him answers with a quiet moan and a kiss upon the crown of his head. A few weak pulses of cum dribble down from John's cock, prompting a gasping keen, before they both settle. Settle into the quiet now, filled only with their attempts at getting their breath back, and trading lazy and firm kisses. Slick with sweat, Javier is a vision in the moonlight- and John is a beautiful creature. With a gentleness at-odds with what they'd just done, the revolutionary pulled himself out, soothing the other's hiss with soft praise. Drops back on his haunches, taking a moment to steady himself, as he briefly admires his handiwork. John's stretched hole, puffy and spread, and after a moment of waiting, Javier's cum dripped lightly from it. He can't hold back the soft intake of breath at the beauty of it, doesn't look up when John peers at him from over his own heaving chest, brow furrowed and tired,

 

" What... are you starin' at, _Mr. Escuella_? "

 

The other simply grins mischievously, dipping down to place a kiss on the other's softening cock just to feel John growl deep in his chest, worn hands firmly pushing his head away, grumbling about _sensitivity_ and _don't you know how to give a man a break_. Javier simply tilted his head like he'd had when he'd first followed John out here before reaching forward, curling a hand around the scarred cheek and pulling him up enough so he could kiss him again. Something about it is far more intimate than earlier, because they aren't drunk now, and they aren't about to dive into pleasure together. No, this was a promise. Something caring. Words unsaid. After a moment, Javier is waved away by the other who struggles to sit up on his duster, rolling his shoulders with a displeased grunt and a series of cracks,

 

" Damn. Did a real number on me, didn't you? "

 

Javier looked away to reach for his own clothes, stopped in-motion, before lowering his hands and murmuring quietly as his gaze peered through the treeline,

 

" Sorry. Next time will be softer. "

 

Next time. **Next time**. John looks to him, can feel his eyes burning into the side of his face, and Javier seems to gather his strength and turns to look right back. The expression on John's face is difficult to read, difficult to place. The scars on his face have just made him more rugged than he already was, what he always was. Hard to decipher. But so is Javier, much more so, and even in this moment of gentleness after their fit of passion, both are quick to bounce back to defense. But... John doesn't seem displeased. Doesn't _deny it_. Merely blinks slowly, owlishly, in a way that makes him so innocent-looking that Javier reaches a hand forward to trace his scars. _Testing_. John doesn't pull back, doesn't look away. He leans forth, relaxing into the palm against his face, and turns to press a kiss into it. Javier smiles at that, strokes the stubbled cheek, before standing up from the ground. Watches the man's confused and curious gaze slide up and down his body, fluttering at the shapes and curves, before looking him in the eye.

Javier offers him his hands and John takes them, allowing the smaller to pull him to his feet, grunting and wincing when he manages to right himself. He twists to try and get a look at his ass but Javier pulls his face away, pressing another kiss to his jawline, and tugs. Leads him down to the water- that they miraculously hadn't fallen into during all this- and pulls him in. John shivers, bites out his displeasure at the cool of it, and promptly roots his feet into the pebbled, muddy shore and refuses to move. Ah, yes, _the man who can't swim_. The jest bubbles up in Javier's throat and he knows John can see it glittering in his eyes, in the purse of his lips ready to move, before John silences him with a rough kiss and a mildly gentler cuff over his head. It only makes the other laugh, pushing into John's shoulder with his fist, and it quickly dissolves into a push-and-shove match that makes them twirl and dance beneath the moonlight.

Javier's dark eyes are glittering proudly in his ability to rile the other up while John sneaks a grin full of wicked, sharp teeth and snaps them in his direction.

He gets his fingers under John's jaw, nestled in his throat, and attempts to toss him into the water. He may be smaller, but his muscles are just as hard, and his compact build has the advantage with the other's legs still weak as a newborn fawn's. But John is determined and a scrappy fighter, able to get up again and again, and when he goes down, he latches on to Javier and takes him down too. They fall with a splash and before John can manage to pull away and scramble back to shore, Javier has a hold on him and drags him back against him. Can feel the shudder of displeasure upon the other's spine where it's pressed to his chest, prompting him to press a light kiss to John's now-wet hair,

 

" Won't go far, you can still stand and touch the bottom here. Easier to clean this way. "

 

John grumbles again, growling at the amused hum in Javier's throat, before relenting a bit and turning in his arms to face each other. Here, most of their chests were still above-water, although both thoroughly soaked from their fall. Carefully, as though approaching some wild beast, Javier wound his hands against John's hips. Pulls him close, flush together, before wandering back to his ass, gently pulling him apart again. He can feel the jaw against his temple clench, teeth grinding, and Javier tilts his head to see around John's arm,

 

" Plus, have a good excuse if anyone asks what we were doing out here. "

 

He says, almost conversationally, as he sets to work delicately prodding his own cum out of John's body. Feels the other tense and relax, _tense and relax_ , before deciding to simply accept the help and sag a touch. They're quiet for a long while even after Javier was pleased enough with his work, merely resting in one another's arms, before John speaks in a low mumble,

 

" Been a while since we stood this close. "

 

It gains him a raised brow of curiosity and a jab that he'd made far too easy to make,

 

" What, you mean a few minutes ago? "

 

John pinched his nipples non-too-gently, teeth bared again, before shaking his head and sighing raggedly. A shuffle of his weight, seemingly testing the level of his own strength at the moment, before reaching up to trace the lines of Javier's face. Drags from temple to cheekbone, mapping the bone structure, across his nose and thumbing over his lips- in which Javier decides to kiss each tip of his fingers in a way that is so painfully intimate and sweet that John has to look away and clear his throat. They allow themselves to relax a moment longer before pulling apart, hand-in-hand, back to the shore. Use John's duster to dry off, carefully pull their shirts back on although their vests and coats remain draped over their arms, limp and unworn. Slowly, they back their way back to camp, and find that everyone else had gone clear to bed.

Made sense. A glance at the sky told it was beginning to lighten- morning was coming. John does his best not to limp back to his tent, quietly pulling back the flap. She hadn't stayed. He hadn't expected her to. A glance across camp showed her motionless figure in her tent, an empty space where Jack usually laid. The thought weighed heavy on his mind, though he's pulled from it at the sound of his name, fingers pressed to his spine,

 

" John, you alright? "

 

Javier is quiet, but watches him intensely. Searching. John shifts his weight, looking down at his hands and nodding. The other doesn't leave just yet- hovers, for a long moment. And then he pulls back, voice lilting in that teasing manner,

 

" Well, let me know if you need help tomorrow. I'll pick up your _slack_. "

 

His smile doesn't fade when John rounds on him, punching him square in the chest with hardly enough force to even be considered a punch at all. The two lock eyes again and something soft pulsates between them. Both hover in space, _back and forth_ , as though they can't tell whether they should come close or go. After a moment, John's narrowed eyes skittered around, breath holding as he looked for any sign of eyes. Certain they were totally and entirely alone, he shifted forward and planted a bare brush of lips against Javier's cheekbone. He's prepared to fully pull away when a hand curls against his scruff, holds him still as the head against his turns and presses lips against his.

The fear of being seen is very real and very potent but John can't seem to let go. Not yet. Just have this one... this _one more selfish moment_. When they break apart, Javier looks glassy-eyed and pleased, pushing John's wet hair back from his forehead. John pauses a moment, heaves a deep breath, before looking the other in the eye and murmuring softly,

 

" Only this once... Next time will be softer, anyway. "

 

Javier blinks, taken aback a moment, before a soft expression bloomed across his normally hard and dark visage. Patting John's chest lightly, he turns swiftly and trails back to his own tent, waving a hand nonchalantly in farewell. The last John sees of him is the glitter of his gold-spurred, well-polished boots as he settles in the curve of his pitched tent. And then he himself turns back into the solitude of his own tent, tossing his clothes to the side to be worn later, and settles on his cot.

Finds not a single thing coming to mind to ruminate on, to think about, to stress about, to _worry about_. All he feels is lightness, and a warmth that Javier left behind in his chest. It's a wonderful and terrifying feeling, one he hadn't ever felt even for Abigail. But even that realization doesn't seem to bother him right now. No, Javier has imprinted himself far beneath John's skin, permeated him with everything he had to give, and that was enough to chase away the muddy demons of his head. Careful of his bruised skin and tender ass, he laid on his side in his cot, and for once wished that it was Javier's chest he was pressed against instead of his rickety bed and old pillow.

When he closes his eyes, he thinks of dark eyes and pretty smile and a far-familiar voice purring his name, coaxing him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe my first work posted here is NSFW. oh well, grab it an' growl, kids.


End file.
